Of All the Pubs…
by articcat621
Summary: Hermione couldn't believe that she bumped into him. Out of all the pubs in England…


**A/N:** Many thanks to gaeilgerua for the beta. Originally written for the HP Rarefest2017 on LJ.

 **Warning(s)/Content:** Mentions of War/Torture/Character Death, Angst, Language.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 _Of All the Pubs…_

Hermione was walking down a side alley towards the tiny little pub that she knew existed. It was raining heavily, so she gripped her umbrella tightly as she walked, careful not to step in any puddles. Glancing up, she smiled as the sign of 'The Miss's Mess' came into view. It was deep enough in London that not many tourists came to the pub, meaning it was typically quiet inside.

Shaking out her umbrella, she closed it before entering the pub. As she opened the door, the smell of fish and chips wafted out, causing her stomach to rumble. She was absolutely starving and couldn't wait to have the fish and chips. Or maybe she'd have the Shepherd's pie. Or maybe some bangers…

She took a seat at the bar, smiling to the bartender, Millie. The middle-aged woman had been working the counter for some years now, and she knew that Hermione was a repeat customer.

"What can I get you, sweetie?"

"I'll have the fish and chips, today, Millie." Hermione smiled warmly. "And a glass of cider, surprise me."

"Done," Millie said. "You know, it's been some time since we've seen you, dear. Hope everything's been all right."

Hermione wanted to laugh. "I've been busy," she answered. What else could she say? She defeated a Dark Lord? Sat for her N.E.W.T.s? Attending hundreds of court trials? Dozens of funerals?

Millie nodded. "Well, we're glad to see you. Be right back with your food."

Hermione shed her raincoat as she waited. She discreetly cast a drying charm on her clothes and coat, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she was completely dried.

Someone took a seat next to her, but Hermione didn't pay them any attention.

Millie stopped by, placing a bottle of cider on the counter. "There you are, dear. Food will be just a moment."

"Thanks, Millie," Hermione said, smiling. She picked up the cider and took a sip, thankful for the refreshing taste. Glancing up at the telly above the counter, she saw that there was a football match on. Germany was in the lead.

She watched the game for a few minutes, startling out of her concentration when Millie placed a large plate of fish and chips before her.

"Let me know if you need anything else," Millie said before she hurried over to another customer that was waving her down.

Hermione picked up a chip, popping it into her mouth. She sighed happily at the tasty crunchiness of the chip.

"Food that good, eh?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, it's quite good. I come here every so often. On rainy days like this, I like to get the fish."

"You a local to London?"

Hermione glanced at the man from the corner of her eye. "No, I'm from Ashford. You?"

"Just… exploring," he answered hesitantly.

"New to city life?" Hermione asked with a small smile.

"You could say that," he answered, laughing dryly.

Hermione turned to finally look at the man she was conversing with. She saw right away that he was tall, yet slim, with dark hair that was pulled back with a leather thong. When he turned to face her, she nearly screamed as she bolted upright from her chair.

"Fuck," he cursed, grabbing her hand. "Sit down, and don't make a scene, Granger."

She glanced at his hand on hers and narrowed her eyes. "Don't touch me, Lestrange."

Rabastan released his grip from her, holding his hands up in a surrendering motion. "See? I don't mean you any harm. Just trying to get a bite to eat."

"Is everything all right?" Millie asked, approaching the two of them. She looked back and forth between the pair nervously.

Hermione shook her head. "I… No, Millie, it's fine." Taking a deep breath, she took a seat at the bar.

"You claim to be all about second chances, Granger," Rabastan stated, turning full in his seat so he could look her over. "I'd be curious to see if you really mean all those things you say in your speeches – about getting past prejudices and all that."

Hermione bristled at his comment. "Of course I mean what I say," she retorted angrily, stabbing her fork into her fish. She chewed it irritably. She knew that Rabastan was on parole. He had served his time in Azkaban for crimes that he committed under the influence of his brother's Imperius curse. He was a free man, with some limitations. Hermione knew that he didn't have a wand as part of his parole.

"So, what should I get to eat?" Rabastan asked, looking over the menu. He looked at Hermione when she didn't answer, huffing angrily. "I don't have much experience with… this type of food or atmosphere. I'm trying, Granger, the least you could do is try and help a bloke out."

She glared at him from the corner of her eye but knew that he was right. For all she advocated moving forward in the wizarding world and forgetting past grievances, why was she having such a difficult time at the moment? Especially as she knew that Rabastan had been under the influence of an Unforgivable curse.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. "I do recommend the fish and chips, along with a nice cider."

Rabastan smirked, the very look sending chills down Hermione's spine. "Thank you for your recommendation, Miss Granger." He waved Millie over. "I'll have what she's having, please." He flashed Millie a smile.

"Of course," she said, blushing slightly before heading to place his order in.

"So, Miss Granger, what have you been up to besides saving the world?"

Hermione sighed. She glanced at Rabastan. "It's been a year since everything has… gone back to normal, I suppose. I don't know. I've considered taking a position at Hogwarts as Madame Pince is retiring soon, but I can't make up my mind, honestly. I always thought I would go into healing or research, but neither seems very appealing, to be honest." She bit her lower lip, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear away. "Sorry, I haven't really talked with anyone about it yet."

Rabastan nodded, seemingly understanding where she was coming from. "I'm on parole, as you know, but I'm hoping to make the best of it. I'm allowed time in the Muggle world – this is actually my first time here. Can't believe it would be my luck to run into you, Granger. So here I am, trying to take it all in. Some of it seems backwards to me, the way these Muggles do things, but I'm trying to make an effort."

She appreciated that Rabastan was at least trying, as she knew other Death Eaters wouldn't share Rabastan's viewpoint. "And what about after your parole?" Hermione questioned.

Rabastan flashed her another one of his striking smirks. "If I don't blow it?" He chuckled, taking a sip of his cider. "I want to be a Potion's Master, so I suppose I'll try to find someone to take me on as an apprentice."

"That'll be difficult," Hermione stated, immediately feeling bad.

"I know," Rabastan answered a little sadly, "But it's the price that I've got to pay for what I've done. I may have not been in control, but I still did those things…" He sighed, looking weary.

Millie appeared at that moment, placing the fish dinner down in front of Rabastan. "Enjoy, love." She winked at Hermione before moving on to her next customer.

Hermione blushed, glancing at Rabastan.

"You were right, kitten, this is delicious."

Her blush deepened at his words. She wanted to protest being called kitten, but a part of her found it to be endearing.

"Thank you," Rabastan said, putting his fork down and looking right at her. His amber eyes peered into hers. "Thank you for showing me that you meant what you said." He patted her hand lightly. "Not many would give a Death Eater like me the time of day."

"Former Death Eater," she corrected softly. "And everyone deserves a second chance, I mean that."

"Well, not everyone," Rabastan said, his gaze darkening slightly. "Rodolphus can stay in Azkaban for the rest of his life." It was Rabastan's turn to angrily eat some of his fish and chips.

Hermione cleared her throat. "You know, Mr Lestrange—"

"You know, call me Rabastan," he interrupted her, a playful expression on his face.

"I… Rabastan," she said softly. "If you would like, I'd like to volunteer myself as a guide for you."

Rabastan arched a brow. "A guide?"

"To the Muggle world," Hermione explained. "I know it can be a lot to take in, but I'd be willing to meet with you once or twice a week to help show you around."

"People will not like the idea of you spending time with me. What would precious Potter say?" Rabastan laughed dryly, taking a sip of his cider.

"Harry isn't the boss of me," Hermione retorted. "And neither is anyone else. So do you accept my offer?"

Rabastan took her hand, quickly bringing it to his lips. "It's a date, Hermione," he purred, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Hermione's insides fluttered with delight and she couldn't help but wonder, _Just what did I get myself into?_


End file.
